Osprey wing

Today I drew from the bird hanging in the tree. It is an awkward point of view, but I cannot figure out how else to keep the local varmints from dragging him away.
I was saddened by the vibrant life gone out of him. A bird falls from the sky and his eyes are like clouds; I had seen him fly along the beach many times, hunting, searching. The promise of Spring and new life is in the air, but not for him.
I meant to make a more realistic drawing today, but time escaped me. I took the unfinished piece to work with me and let it evolve as it would over the evening. I rather enjoy the mix of real/not real. Or outside/inside.